A Life in Pink
by MademoiselleFfion
Summary: Lady Guinevere is the orphaned niece of the Duke of Cornwall. Faced with marriage to a man she doesn't love, simply to secure her future, she decides to leave and make a life for herself- even if it means crossing the border to Camelot. But Guinevere must be careful, as relations between the Duke and Uther grow frosty, and before long she finds herself in a tricky situation.
1. Chapter 1

A Life in Pink

********

The young woman sat up in bed, allowing the warm summer sunshine seep in to her eyes through the gap in the curtains. She rolled over and to take a brief glance around her lavishly decorated room- and goodness, what a room it was. The curtains surrounding her four poster bed were made of dusty pale blue damask, and across the cream- carpeted room, there was a gorgeous little wooden desk that had been her mother's. There were paintings of the said woman throughout the house. Despite all this, Guinevere still felt the weight of an impending day crush her, but as quickly as this feeling of boredom and dissatisfaction came, she diminished it and berated herself for letting such selfish thoughts into her mind. She was so lucky; or at least that was Uncle Cador and Auntie Elizabeth kept insisting on, to live in a building such as the yellow bath stone Hartington House.

Deciding not to waste any more time lying in bed letting the day slip past, Guinevere slipped out of bed and padded across the room to ring the maid bell. She stifled a yawn and a sigh, another day is coming, another day will pass with her simply sitting in her drawing room twiddling her thumbs and staring thoughtlessly at another of those fantasy romance novels her dear Auntie never approved of her reading. Oh how she wished to fall in love one day- wouldn't it be the most glorious of feelings? To wake up next to the person you adored more than anything?

Hearing the all too familiar sound of a horse canter past on the gravel outside the window, Guinevere pattered over to the window and made a study of the post-boy bringing messages from the post service. How he might complain, at the meagre salaries he would earn at the moment as a post- boy, how he would complain at the long hours, and how he was certainly unaware that at this moment, he was being spied upon by a Princess who was wishing she was in his shoes. For her life was going to be one mapped out exactly, first by her Mama's brother, then by her husband, and if she was widowed, then by her son. She would never have the chance to be independent like he was, being allowed to earn a living instead of having it given to you. But it seemed to be only she that had this view, for she would hate to burden her relatives with all the complaints of her life.

The door was knocked upon, just like every morning, and her maidservant Anne walked into the chamber, her arms carrying a silver tray that was laden with a newspaper and her breakfast. "Morning Anne," Guinevere sighed. Anne looked at her, with an overwhelming sense of pity, for once being grateful for the freedom that came with being a commoner. "Your Uncle wishes to see you in the study once you have breakfasted," this aroused Guinevere's curiosity. "Did he say what for?" she asked, her face the image of suspicion of the good kind- she had a feeling this was about her sixteenth birthday celebrations. "No milady," Anna replied, "He just requested you be there as soon as possible."

The Duke of Cornwall was a tall, ageing man with a kindly face to match a kindly manner. He had a way with his people, and they were all the fondest of him. Cornwall could not have been a different country to Camelot. For the first, there were no taxes- as there were enough natural resources, such as coal, gold, silver and fine silks to trade to keep the country afloat, without needing to take more money from the people, and for the second, one could not tell who were the rich and who were the poor. But Cornwall was not without fault. For years now, it had been dreadfully out of contact with the other countries in the Lands of Albion, trading instead with the countries outside- such as France.

Once Anne had dressed her, she left for her Uncle's study, heading for the familiar mahogany door at the end of the cream and gold, red carpeted passage. When she got there, she saw the dear man of forty two sitting behind the ornately carved, cherry wood desk. "Morning Uncle," she announced brightly, skipping up to him and planting a kiss on his cheek. "Morning Gwen," her Uncle replied, taking a close analysis of the papers brought in by the post- boy that morning. "I just have to finish reading through this letter from Sanliere, I won't be a moment," Guinevere frowned- Sanliere was her Uncle's legal advisor, and she had a horrid feeling about the message of the document. The fact was, the Duke and Duchess had been unable to have children, and upon her parents' death, had taken her in and cared for her as their own- but she was a woman, and that was going to complicate her right to inherit and rule the Duchy.

In these circumstances, the Duchy would usually be passed to the nearest male relative of the Duke- but there were none. He did have a third cousin named Lamorak, who had two daughters of his own-named Mary and Catherine, but Lamorak was dead, and had been so for twenty years. She was shaken from her thoughts by the final rustling of her uncle's papers, as he finally put them down. "You realise my dear that your sixteenth birthday is approaching?" Guinevere nodded, still slightly alarmed by the name of Sanliere being brought up. Unaware of his niece's uneasiness, the Duke continued, "I know that you are now approaching a marriageable age, and that there are many suitors vying for your hand," Once again, Guinevere nodded, "I also know that you were in the past, engaged to the Prince of Camelot," She stiffened at the mention of his name. Her mother, Lady Sybelle had died horrifically at the hands of his father- Uther. She would know. She had seen it. "Be easy my dear, but I am afraid that it looks as though you engagement may be re-arranged, but I must tell you the news of the inheritance. My dear, as you are a woman, and Cornwall has never had a female ruling by herself before, I have come to the conclusion that Cornwall must be inherited by your husband," Guinevere stopped short in horror. Her husband? What if her husband turned out to be… Prince Arthur? "Why, why can't I rule on my own, why do I need a man to do it for me?"

The Duke could sense that she was beginning to get angry at the prospect and leant over to pat the back of her hand. She snapped it away in an irritated fashion, "What makes you think that a woman will make such as bad ruler; would you rather see the Duchy passed to a man who has no right to it, as opposed to a woman who does?" He stared at her in silence, waiting until her angry tirade had stopped.

"Because, even though it sounds as absurd to me as it does to you, the Cornish people would feel fairly uneasy with a female ruler ruling in a land dominated by men, and so back to my original point, there will be a ball held here in Hartington House, so that you may choose a husband. Invitations will be sent out shortly" And with that, the Duke dismissed his quieted niece- as his tone had quite told her that the conversation was at an end, and was left to contemplate his own decision in silence.

Guinevere stormed back to her room, only to find the dark haired beauty that was Freya, lounging around in her reception room. Freya was a young sorceress, the same age as her- fifteen- who was adopted by her mother when she was eight. Lady Sybelle had been a gentle and caring woman who had delighted in teaching other young sorceresses, like Freya, to use their magic in the healing arts. She had magic, yet Gwen didn't, and that had made her feel as though she was letting her mother down in a sense. Despite this, the Duke had loved and cared for Freya as he had Gwen.

Freya observed her dear sister quietly for a moment, before speaking "Cheer up, sister, not all men are bad,", "No" replied Gwen, "But this one is, I am sure of it," She spoke with such definitiveness in her voice that Freya recoiled slightly. "Do you know him? Have you ever met him?" This halted Guinevere for a moment, "No, but I know what his father did to our mother, I know what the rumours say- that he assaults his servants with various weapons, and I know that he seems to be incapable of keeping his pen in his ink pot, so to speak, when it comes to the ladies of his court. Freya burst out laughing at her uncharacteristic use of innuendo, and sighed. "What about the other sides to his character, such as his bravery, his skills with a sword?" Guinevere scoffed "It's his skills with a sword that gets him so much attention from the Ladies," Freya looked at her disapprovingly, but knew that her sister was in no mood to being reckoned with.

********

"Arthur, are you listening?" demanded the King. He was growing increasingly fed up with his son's lifestyle. Granted, Arthur was a noble, and he felt it was the nobles' right to have mistresses; but not when the woman in question was a known gossiper, and had a habit of spreading rumours about the Prince. Lady Arabella, the daughter of one of Camelot's first knights, Sir Bors, had been the object of the Prince's affections for the last few months. She was beautiful, with bright green eyes, long blonde hair and a face that would make any man stare. No doubt it was her face that had attracted him; and certainly not her personality.

"Yeah, yeah… What?" Arthur sat up in his seat and tore his gaze from his flirtatious mistress, to his Father's irritable expression. "I said that we have been invited to Hartington House, to attend a small dinner in the honour of the Lady Guinevere. You know that relations between Camelot and Cornwall have been tense since… that happened." The King, the Prince, the Lady Morgana, Sir Bors and his daughter were dining in the large, grey stone dining room of the Castle of Camelot.

"Ah… that," In all honesty, the Prince didn't know what "that" was exactly, although he did know that it had something to do with the Lady Guinevere's Mother, Lady Sybelle, whom his father had told him, was an evil and vicious sorceress, who basked in the pain of others. Arthur didn't quite understand how this had managed to cause trouble between the Kingdoms, and it wasn't something he was prepared to talk about with his Father. Instead he contented himself with winking at Lady Arabella, and nodding toward the door; a promise that he would be making up for lost time later.

This small gesture wasn't missed by the King, however, who quickly felt his ire growing once more. "And no, before you ask, under no circumstances must you allow the Lady Arabella to accompany you," Arthur scowled by way of reply, and tilted his head at his mistress apologetically. Sir Bors frowned slightly at the outburst. "Surely it would do no harm if Arabella were to accompany the Prince?" He looked at the King imploringly, knowing that the more time Arabella would be able to hold the Prince's attention, the longer their family would stay in the Royal favour- and that favour was something he wasn't going to compromise easily, certainly not for the sake of some foreign Lady. "I'm sorry Bors," replied Uther, "but the Prince was once engaged to the Lady Guinevere, a and may be engaged to her again in the future, and I cannot allow any implication that he is slighting her by bringing another woman," Bors' spoon came down with a clatter, and he stared at the King, unable to form a coherent thought or sentence.

"My…My Lord?" this statement certainly rattled Bors- if this girl was to marry Arthur, then what of the Royal favour that was currently bestowed upon his family? What of the sexual relationship that had always served to satisfy both Arabella and the Prince? And what would happen to Arabella? Mistresses were not always looked upon fondly by society- she would find it hard to secure herself a husband. At any rate, she was already being financially supported by the Prince, and if that support ended- she would fall and be labelled with shame and bound by poverty.

"I'm tired and wish to retire," the Prince excused himself suddenly, and left the dining room- Arabella tottering behind him. He was certainly not surprised by the news. He had known about the Lady Guinevere, but didn't like the idea of having to be without Arabella- or Arabella's body for the few days he would undoubtedly spend at Hartington House. To tell the truth, they were both good looking- him with blonde hair and blue eyes to match with hers, but he had always been more interested in her body- the pert, full breasts, slim thighs and tiny waist than the personality under the flesh- as most eighteen year olds were.

"Arthur," Arabella called, using her lowest and most seductive voice, "we have much time to amuse ourselves before you must go." He turned to look at her, feeling the familiar sense of desire brought about by her voice. He smirked at her, and opened the door to his chambers for her to walk through. She did, and by two minutes later they were satisfying each other, with all the accompanying grunts and groans that went with it.

Morgana, in the meantime- who had been surprisingly quiet during the meal headed back to her chambers, and sat before her mirror, gazing at her reflection. In all honesty, she was beginning to tire of Arabella. In her opinion, she was after money and power from Arthur- surely his personality didn't come into her desperate- but not entirely fruitless- pursuit of him. She was looking forward to having a female friend- and hoped that this Lady Guinevere would be different to the simpering, two-faced ladies of Camelot like Arabella. But Morgana also worried, as she didn't know how well the Cornish Princess would take to being compared with the likes of the Prince's mistress, as she inevitably would be if she was to be officially announced as his future bride.

Two days later, the horses and carriages were prepared for the six hour journey to Hartington House, and King Uther, Prince Arthur, Lady Morgana and their entourage of Knights were ready to depart for Cornwall.

When they had finally arrived Morgana took the chance to admire Hartington House. It was a very different palace to Camelot. Whereas Camelot was more of a military barrack, with white towers and turrets that reached up to the sun and the stars, and the moat that stretched right round it, Hartington was more of a country mansion- lavishly decorated and boasting of wealth and authority. It was by no means the official seat of the Duke of Cornwall- that was the Tintagel Palace in the North, but Lady Sybelle had chosen to raise her children there.

********

Guinevere woke up early the next morning to the sound of Freya bursting into her room and jumping on her bed excitedly shouting "Dress choosing time, Vivienne will be along in a minute!" Guinevere groaned and looked at her sister who faltered "Are…aren't you excited?" asked Freya, confused by her sister's uninterested reaction. "No Freya, I would be, but it's just… I'm going to have to pick a dress that it's supposed to attract and impress… impress… my future husband," At this, both were silent, the full effect of her words digging into them like needles. "Well, at least don't let it put you off visiting that colossal wardrobe of yours to pick out some gorgeous silk gown to attract the gentlemen who will be present," Guinevere smirked at her sister, and limbed out of bed to her walk in wardrobe- that happened to be hid behind a wall that was covered with a painting of their beloved mother, and awaited the arrival of Vivienne, Guinevere's friend since childhood. She was beautiful, but flirtatious- which had gotten her into trouble with the Duke, over her wonton behaviour. The girls then proceeded to rifle through Guinevere's entire wardrobe, taking out all of her evening gowns and discarding them, one by one.

"Oh no Freya, that's too hideous," Freya held the pink ball of silk out above her body before discarding it with a sigh atop all the other balls of silk in pastel colours. She certainly liked the larger skirts. "Well, we still have to choose a dress for you," sighed Freya, picking up a slim, silk navy blue gown, complete with a train. Still, her sister gave not much reaction to the dress, "Oh come on Gwen, the ball takes place tomorrow", but sat on the chaise lounge, a discontented look upon her face, when the sound of bugles announced the arrival of the party from Camelot. Freya switched her gaze from the window, which was where the sound had been coming from to Guinevere, who looked up from beneath her hair and miserably looked down at her fingers. He was here.

*********

Curiously, Lady Guinevere had come down with a mysterious illness, and so was unable to greet the party from Camelot- at which the Lady Morgana felt extremely put out, but the Lady Freya made up for her absence by talking animatedly with the King and Prince Arthur, who, missing the consolation of Lady Arabella's body, flirted with Vivienne. Freya scowled at her, annoyed that Vivienne would flirt so ostentatiously with the man her friend was one day destined to marry! How that woman could provoke her ire without realising it (or was she deliberately flirting with Pendragon to get back at Gwen for stealing the heart of Gawain- the man whom Vivienne had professed herself so in love with, before he had confessed his adoration for Gwen?) .The Duke also seemed exceptionally displeased with her wide and wonton behaviour.

The Duchess stepped away from the party, after greeting the party, to see that the normally magnificent ballroom had been transformed into ice palace that she requested. The ceilings had been draped in pale blue silk coverings there were several white- clothed tables topped with glistening, clear ice sculptures of angels, all before the top table, which was the designated table for the Duke, Duchess, Lady Freya, the party from Camelot, and- provided that she recovered from this mysterious- and probably feigned illness.

Lady Guinevere didn't recover from her sudden illness, and unfortunately didn't make it to the feast- much to the Duke's suspicion and displeasure, but the dinner and the entertainment went on throughout the night. Arthur and Vivienne continued their grating flirting, this time provoking the ire of not only Freya, but the entire hall. Uther and the Duke sat next to each other in an awkward silence, having run out of conversation ideas, and the Duchess spent her time engaging in amusing conversation with Morgana. The ballet dancers slipped and slid through the hall gracefully, and the orchestra and opera singers warbled on for the entire evening. It was, all in all, a success.

Gwen, in the meantime, sat alone in her chambers, a glass of wine in her hand, and the prince if Camelot in her thoughts. He was handsome, she conceded, but everything about him and his behaviour was totally unacceptable to her. He drank occasionally- but then so did everyone. He was a flirt and a womaniser, and she doubted that he would possess the ability to remain faithful to her if she ever was to marry him.

Guinevere was jogged from her thoughts when a frankly hideous sound escaped through her open window. A very _human_ noise. She sauntered cautiously over, and peeked out the window, to her disgust, seeing the Prince leaning over… Vivienne, and… well… taking her against a wall. Guinevere felt the bile rise up from her throat. Overpowered by a feeling of disgust, she picked up the near pitcher of wine and dumped it over the lovers, angrily shouting "Grow up!" out of the window. She numbly walked over and sat on the bed, feeling the betrayal keenly. _Why…why. I thought Viv was my friend. HE was my future husband. She… he… I thought… I was wrong._ One thing was made up in her mind that night. She would never, on any account_, ever, _marry Prince Arthur of Camelot.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Arthur and Vivienne gasped and choked as the cold sensation of wine trickling down their faces effectively doused their rendezvous against a wall. Without speaking to one another, they righted their clothing and glanced back at each other. The tell-tale red of the wine stained her low cut pastel ball gown would surely arouse suspicion, and his chainmail was still dripping.

"I'm going back in," he announced, turning away from her, readying himself for the inevitable gossip that would circulate after being seen walking back into the rose- decorated foyer with a known flirt of the Cornish court, both of them covered in wine. But Vivienne, shocked at his sudden dismissal of her, would not be thrown away. "Prince Arthur," she whined "I have not finished with you yet." He looked back at her sympathetically. "I know, but we cannot stay out much longer; someone already knows we're here, and it wouldn't look good at all of we were found. Not at a function like this." Still not satisfied, she resigned herself to throw him one last disdainful look, and patter back in to the house, ignoring all the disapproving looks thrown at her by the older generation of courtiers.

Prince Arthur didn't think himself much of a flirt. True, he had mistresses like Arabella, and dalliances with women such as Vivienne, but they were few and far between- whatever his father might have thought. He was certainly not as bad as any of the other knights- who were known to regularly visit the homes of loose women when they were in Camelot. In fact he thought that it was rather vulgar, paying women to use their bodies. Although, Arabella couldn't expect him to be faithful to her, not when she was just a mistress, and there were other ladies of the court who caught his attention.

Back in the hall, people were beginning to pack up and turn in for the night. The dancers were performing their final routines, and the orchestra was playing its last symphonies. The King and Cador, having spent most of the evening trying not to let their conversation escalate into a confrontation about the past, and the rest in an uneasy and frosty silence, now began to make their final rounds of the nobles and revellers- the Duke promising to give messages of condolences to the Lady Guinevere for her sick condition- and on her birthday of all days! Just as the ball room began to quiet, and people began to depart, a wine- soaked Vivienne burst through the doors, and in a moment lacking in wisdom, announced "The Prince of Camelot is an inept lover." Everyone present was thrown into a moment of a horrid, uneasy silence. The Duke and Uther stared at their shoes, each trying not to catch the other's gaze, and the nobles slowly turned to look at one another, their eyes making up for a lack in conversation. Her red stained clothes and her messed hair were verifying the statement, especially when the Prince in question stormed through the doors, his chain mail still not clean, and his normally blonde hair taking on a pinkish tinge. He looked on, bemused, as the gaze of the masses turned to him, some of the most spiteful of the crowd looking at each other and muttering and chuckling.

But that was nothing compared with the storms raging in the eyes of the King and the Duke. Arabella looked on from behind the dais on which the heads of state had dined; a cruelly amused smile on her face. She didn't care- already having been labelled a scarlet woman (perhaps too literally now), that people knew she had it on with the Prince. _He deserved it for not satisfying my needs_.

The Duke cleared his throat "Erm… thank you Vivienne," he began awkwardly, "The feast is over, so many thanks for the party from Camelot for, erm, dining with us, and celebrating the Lady Guinevere's birthday, and may you all have a happy and safe trip home. Goodnight all."

Not one of his better speeches admittedly, but no one manages to improvise wonders of words when under such pressures. Slowly, the crowd of nobles and servants began to dissipate, and the still befuddled Prince made his way over to his father- who hadn't lost the frankly terrifying look in his eyes, and the Lady Morgana (who found the situation so very amusing, she was trying not to laugh out loud).

"Arthur," Uther growled, "We talk later." The Prince felt his heart rise to his throat. Whenever his father said they needed to talk, he was usually in for serious sanctions.

Freya however, furious with Vivienne for displaying herself in such a light, flounced back up to her sister's room. _How dare that little oik show up Cornwall like that._ The long walk to Guinevere's chambers did nothing to calm her nerves, and she walked in to see her sister curled into a foetal position, her eyes devoid of any emotion whatsoever.

"I'm not marrying him, Frey," Guinevere muttered.

"I understand," Freya replied gently.

Uther, however, was not staying in such a calm and tranquil mood. He stormed back to the guest room, his son and ward tottering behind, both quiet, as they knew that his temper was not one to be reckoned with. He strode through the door, and slammed it shut, before remembering that his two children were on the other side. Arthur padded in softly, his eyes not leaving the floor.

"Why did you do that? DID I not tell you that YOU ARE FORMALLY ENGAGED to the Lady Guinevere? And yet you chose to toy with this harlot, and let people tip wine over you whilst you were at it? Did I NOT say?" The Prince was alarmed by his father's second sentence though.

"Engaged to her, engaged to her?" he blustered angrily, "Why, there were many suitors here for her! What about Bayard's son, or Pellinore from the Northern regions? You only told me that I might be engaged from her, but judging by the sheer number of Princes here, I think that I might not be the only one!"

The King steeled himself, prepared to drop the bombshell, "You were engaged to her, it was arranged between the Duke and myself this evening." The Prince halted, his mouth hanging open dumbly, but his father continued, "This alliance would have brought incalculable wealth and prosperity to Camelot, but you have ruined it. The Duke may not be so happy to have you for his niece's husband now."

The Prince stared in a shocked manner. A womaniser he might be, but he would gladly do anything to pull his people out of their current state of poverty- even if it meant marriage, even if it meant changing his policies on magic to suit those of the more moderate Duke, for he knew that the Lady Guinevere's husband would inherit Cornwall; an enormous land with a colossal army, huge wealth and connections outside of the Lands of Albion. Still frustrated at the Prince's behaviour, the King exited the chamber, and he was left to ponder the fate of his people alone.

The next morning, the party from Camelot were bid farewell. They had intended to stay for longer, but the King had had a message from sentries along his border that Joseph, King of Arimathea was encroaching, with a large army. Whether this was planned as a military message, Uther didn't know, but he did know that he had to leave immediately to prepare the army, in case there was to be a conflict or battle. He was to leave angry, disappointed that he didn't get a chance to ask the Duke whether the alliance and marriage would go ahead as planned- Cador had been avoiding him all morning. He wasn't the only one who was agitated by the trip.

Lady Morgana, a woman whom had been so excited about meeting the Lady Guinevere, was vexed to have to go without this introduction. The higher ranking nobles of the Cornish court lined the steps, in order to see their guests away safely, but many of the Ladies just wanted the chance to scrutinise the Prince, and work out if he was as 'inept' as Vivienne said he was. As the carriages pulled away, there was one person who was certainly not sad to see them go. Guinevere watched from her chamber window, and decided that she had to speak with the Duke about her betrothal.

She pulled herself up from the bed, and began the long walk to her uncle's study. The moment she stepped out of her chamber door, she noticed that people were staring at her. _Nonsense, _she thought, _I don't have anything to do with this._ But the more she walked, the more it embarrassed her. Every turn and every passage was filled with gossiping and giggling courtiers. She felt her cheeks redden and her eyes well up as she realised why they were muttering. Of course. The Prince, he fiancé, was copulating with the Lady Vivienne. Her old friend. She could imagine what they were saying- how the Prince was so uninterested in her that he went for _Vivienne._ This incessant low murmur followed her like a plague, until eventually, she turned on her heel and headed for Freya's chambers instead.

********

Cador sat at his desk with his head in his hands. Vivienne sat opposite him, a look of defiance prominent upon her face.

"Your behaviour was disgraceful," the Duke began, "I honestly don't know how you managed to make such a fool of yourself. Any other Lady would have hung her head in shame at being used in such a manner, yet you decide to flaunt it? And in front of our royal guests?" Vivienne shrugged, unmoved by the Duke's words.

"She stole Gawain from me." It was such a simple sentence, yet it plunged the Duke into all his past memories; ones which he would rather have forgotten.

"She didn't steal him, Vivienne. He fell in love with her."

"Love her," Vivienne scoffed "He didn't love her, he loved me. She just flirted with him and stole him away from me because she was jealous."

"Like you did yesterday with Prince Arthur?" questioned the Duke lightly. He had grown quite fed up with Vivienne's behaviour, and had now decided to act on his irritation.

"She didn't love him, he didn't love her. I wanted to let her know what betrayal feels like. How it hollows you, how it stings. She deserved it. I only wish it had hurt her more." The Duke felt his anger reach boiling point, and decided not to beat around the bush any longer.

"I've arranged for you to leave for the court at Tintagel,"

Vivienne looked up, astonished. Tintagel was the main court in Cornwall. With literally thousands of courtiers, it boasted the largest attending court in the Lands of Albion- the Leodegraces being the most powerful family. Yet it was known for its stuffiness, many of the courtiers being very orthodox and old fashioned- certainly not a place for women like Vivienne to live in peace. She would be snubbed and labelled and ignored- and the Duke hoped that she would learn a lesson, and then be admitted back into Hartington House; for this wasn't the first time she had seduced a visiting dignitary and boasted about it.

Cador dismissed her, sending a servant to help her pack her bags, and went back to his work- but not before he left a message with Anne, asking her to let Guinevere know that he wished to speak with her about her betrothal.

********

Guinevere had comforted herself with the determination to rid her life of Arthur Pendragon once and for all. This wouldn't be the first time that she had been engaged to him. Only five years ago, Uther had sent message that his thirteen year old son would be entering the final stages of his training to become a knight- after he had done so, he would become eligible for a fiancée- though not yet a wife.

The Duke had wished to reconcile with Uther, after a large camp of druids had crossed his border to escape persecution. Despite their different views on the subject, Cador fervently hoped that a marriage between Lady Guinevere would help mellow his views- after all; she was the daughter of a just in on the idea for the money- it didn't matter to him that she was the daughter of a sorceress, in this case. But his hopes were dashed when the engagement fell through- as did many royal engagements of the time. Elena of Gawant was made a prospective bride after Guinevere, but the Prince was rather put off by her ungainly table habits, and took it upon himself to call off the wedding.

There was a knock on the door, and Cador bid his niece enter. After the events of the feast the previous evening, he wasn't surprised when she simply said, "I'm not marrying him uncle. Don't ask me why; I think you know."

He chose to leave it at that, and employed Sanliere to relay the message to the King of Camelot. To be honest, he felt relieved that she wasn't marrying him- he seemed a fool to put it lightly. But, the Duke supposed, most women would not have the luxury of being able to call of the engagement because of their future husbands' affairs. Most women would just have to live with the marital fidelity. In fact, most women did anyway simply to obey their parents and husbands. The Duke scoffed lightly; _since when has Guinevere ever been like most women? She was always different._

All these engagements had worried Lady Viola- the Duke's mother, who kept court alongside the Duchess at Tintagel. She was a tall, grand woman in her early seventies, who always wore dark, rustling silk gowns, which contrasted nicely with her pale skin.

"Elizabeth," Viola said to her one morning, whilst they were having tea in one of the music rooms, "You must find Guinevere a husband. Pendragon's gone now, but it still leaves Cornwall without an effective heir. The people will need time to adjust to her husband before he rules. There's no doubt about it- she must marry soon."

The Duchess acknowledged this with a nod of her head. _Of course she knew that Guinevere would have to marry soon. The question was who? Who would she marry?_

"What about Ector?" As if she could read her mind, Viola began suggesting names.

The Duchess shook her neatly curled and pinned head. "Too dangerous."

"Lord Bayard of Mercia?"

"Too old."

"Thomas of Lyonesse?"

"Too young."

"William of Norgales?"

"Too stupid."

"Joseph of Arimathea?"

The Duchess stopped in her tracks. Joseph of Arimathea- why hadn't she thought of him before? He may be a little eccentric, but he wasn't so dangerous that he would endanger Cornwall or her niece. At least, that's what she thought.

********

And things were not faring much better for Arthur in Camelot. The affair with Vivienne had supposed to be kept quiet- so naturally by the time they arrived back in Camelot, everyone knew. Like Guinevere in Hartington, Arthur had to endure the stares and mutterings of the royal court at Camelot, which if possible, were worse. The knights and lords all thought it was terribly amusing, particularly those of the Prince's generation; the older courtiers were less impressed by his behaviour. Whilst many of them had mistresses of their own, they believed that extramarital affairs had to be kept incredibly private- and they certainly would have conducted their affairs right beneath the window of a girl with a pitcher of wine.

He reached his chambers, and slammed the door shut. Hardly to his surprise, he found Arabella standing there. The look on his face allowed him to guess that she had heard about the Lady Vivienne, and was, well, not heartbroken- she didn't love him, but worried for her position as his mistress.

"I'm sorry, Arabella," he began, "But you weren't there, and I got lonely." Arabella twitched her head to the side. _You weren't there._

"You would have chosen me if I was there? Instead of that other woman?" She questioned him lightly.

"You know I would have." Arabella smirked, comfortable in the thought that he still valued her body above any other woman's. They smiled at each other awkwardly and embraced.

The Prince was confused. Yes, he knew that she didn't love him, but he was disappointed that she hadn't made more of a fuss. It meant that she wasn't jealous. Did that mean… that she didn't mind who he copulated with… as long as he kept her… and financially supported her? Worried that he was thinking too much of it, he gently excused himself, and readied himself for the evening patrol.

Sanliere had arrived early the next morning with the Duke's message; that he was calling off the marriage with Camelot. The short, balding, portly ambassador relayed the news in a monotonous, boring voice. Uther, naturally, was furious about the repercussions of his son's behaviour.

"Can nothing be done?" he demanded of the Cornish ambassador.

"I'm afraid no, Sire," Sanliere replied, "The Duke is a proud man who has taken slight. He wishes for the betrothal between your son and his niece to be called off immediately. Lady Guinevere herself believes that she and the Prince would fail to be happy together. However, of the military understanding between the two kingdoms, the Duke assures you that his army will be at your disposal, provided that he is certain it will not provoke any of his other allies."

This was some small consolation for Uther, who had just this morning, been preparing for the conflict with Joseph of Arimathea. He had guessed that the Duke would not want Prince Arthur inheriting Cornwall- not with his womanizing ways; being sly and crafty, he had just requested the presence of the ambassador of Nemeth the following day, with issues concerning the Princess Mithian. Well, if he could not marry his son to the Lady Guinevere, he would just have to find the next most powerful Princess. He knew that the marriage between Arthur and Mithian would be something that the Nemethian King Rodor would want more than anything. Even though it had been only a couple of since the Prince's last betrothal, Uther was keen to see his son married off quickly, and with a royal heir before the conflict involving Arimathea spread any further; Uther particularly worried about sending his son to battle without a child, or at least a pregnant wife- he did not want to think of the Pendragon dynasty ending too soon. He pulled out his chair and sat, head in hands, worry filling his heart. Joseph of Arimathea was only eighteen; the same age as Arthur in fact, but he was strong willed and strong minded. He was certain that he could conquer Camelot, and free the people from the tyranny of Uther (but in so doing, expose them to his own tyranny). He had amassed allies including Caradoc of Sorestan, and Bedivere of Lambole; Uther didn't know whether all the allies he had would match that of Arimathea, and that was why he needed allies. A marriage with Nemeth would not only give the possibility of a second in line to the throne, but military help. As to Cador's promise, Uther knew that he would not get involved; he had allies himself that were allies with Arimathea.

This time, if there would be an engagement, he would have to deal with Arabella. He already knew that the woman was a flirt and a gossiper, and he didn't want anything endangering this alliance. It would not be easy working out where to send her, and even more difficult to explain the situation to Arthur when he inevitably came to demand where his mistress had been sent.

One other who had heard about the affair with Vivienne was Sir Bors, who once again began to panic about his daughter's position. Was this… wine affair going to put the Prince off having a mistress altogether? Had he truly enjoyed the attentions of this other woman?

Just then, Arabella walked through the chamber doors, her face somewhere between a sneer and a grimace.

"Does the Prince still find your attentions to his satisfaction?" Bors demanded, eager to find out whether he still requested her presence at night.

"He does, Father. We have not been intimate since he returned, but he had evening patrol last night. It was understandable that he should not have time."

"I still fear for your position, Arabella. The Prince is a powerful man. You must not let any other woman replace you in his bed." Arabella nodded. She understood how important this is- if he stopped supporting her financially, or replaced her with another woman, she would be scorned at court and financially impoverished. Her Father no longer served as a knight, and had only enough income to support himself. She relied on the Prince too much to lose his favour.

Unexpectedly, there came a knock upon the door. Arabella looked uncertainly at her father, and then proceeded to open it. To her further surprise, there was a guard outside, requesting to take her to the King. Arabella froze. The King had never called upon her before- but she knew that he knew she was his son's mistress. Still overcome with shock and trepidation, Arabella allowed him to escort her to the council chambers, where she found the King standing, his back to her, his eyes glancing outside the window. After what felt like an eternity of waiting, he turned to face her. His facial expression was far from friendly, and Arabella's feeling of fear doubled.

"Lady Arabella," he began, "it has come to my attention that you have shared a somewhat… intimate past with the Prince." Arabella nodded to show the affirmative, but felt even more terrified than before. Not noticing this, he continued, "The unfortunate fact is, that after your indiscretion regarding this… affair, you have failed to remain silent." Her heart rose to her throat; perhaps she shouldn't have gossiped and bragged? Still, the King ignored her uneasiness and ploughed on. "I know that the Prince has been seeing you for some time now, and finds your attentions to his satisfaction. But that does not change the fact that too many people know, and it is beginning to do some serious damage to his reputation."

"Sire, are you requesting that I and the Prince end our affair?"

"No; it is too late for that. Like I have just said, too many people know."

"I am not understanding you Sire." Arabella was highly confused by now, and Uther decided that he was to beat around the bush no longer.

"I mean, Lady Arabella, that you must leave," Arabella's horror reached its peak, and she had to try and fight the tears back. "I have arranged for you to stay at King Ursien's court in the Summer County." At this point, Arabella really did let the tears flow from her eyes. "What of the Prince, Sire? Surely he will not be pleased when he realises my disappearance!" Uther rolled his eyes in distaste. "My son is no longer your business," Arabella made to speak again, but the King cut her to it, "I will have someone inform your father, you are to leave shortly." And with those words, and a swish of his long, navy- blue coat, Uther left the hall, leaving Arabella flummoxed, and very, very upset.


	3. Chapter 3

Just to let you know, thist story will be on hiatus until the 14th of June:( This is as I have important exams to prepare for and sit, but I will be able to continue the story afterwards. Thanks to all those who have read and reviewed A Life in Pink!


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